Sparks Fly Up: Natara Williams Mysteries
by Miles Above My Head
Summary: "For man is born to trouble as surely as sparks fly upward." There has been murder in Madagascar, a string of murders in fact. Who to call but the legendary duo Natara Williams and Mal Fallon, made famous by their capture of the Maskmaker, Eric Mills. Yes, surely Mal and Natara will be able to find the culprit behind this mass murder, or will he find them first? Rated T.
1. Chapter 1

1300 Golden Gate Avenue's Golden Gate and Fillmore Apartment may not be as glamorous as having a quaint little house in the suburbs, but it suits Mal Fallon just fine. It is a one minute walk from the San Francisco Police Department, where he works as a detective, and is in the middle of downtown San Francisco, which is right where he wants to be. It is a little pricey, but he manages because it feels like home, and that's all that really matters. As an added bonus, it is a mere seven minutes' drive from Marina Motel, and that is more important to him than any other location factor. There are three main routes to get from his apartment to that motel, and he knows every one by heart. There is the Divisadero Street Route and the Webster Street Route and the Webster-Divisadero Street Route. He usually takes the first.

Natara Williams, on the other hand, is less accustomed to the streets and shortcuts of the great city of San Francisco. Even after a year, it's startling how little she knows about the city itself. One thing she does know is how to get to her job at the SFPD, and therefore to her partner's apartment building a block away. Considering the better part of her free time is spent in that part of the city, it isn't surprising to anyone that she knows that area better than her motel's vicinity. Least of all to Natara herself.

Even so, as she drags her two suitcases into the cab, it irritates her that she has to live in this city. She doesn't know her way around, she has no need for her own car, and she has to live in a motel room. Even with the short, seven minute commute to work every day and all of the friends she has made, she is incredibly relieved to be leaving the city, even if just for a short while. And better yet, she's leaving with her partner Mal Fallon, whom she cares about more than she likes to admit.

"San Francisco Police Department," Natara says to the cab driver.

"Fastest route?" he asks dryly.

Natara rolls her eyes. "I wouldn't know the difference," she answers, and the cab slips into the light morning traffic with ease.

Mal's eyelids flutter open and he turns to his nightstand. The alarm clock sits stolidly, resolutely blank. He groans and reaches for his phone, which so happens to also be dead.

"Damn," he mutters and stands up, rubbing his eyes. "Today just isn't my day."

He sits like that on the edge of his bed, rubbing the tiredness from his eyes, for another few minutes until he hears a knock on the door.

"Who…?"

"Hey, sleepyhead," Special Agent Natara Williams' voice rings out. "Don't tell me you forgot about our trip! We have crimes to solve, Mal Fallon. Wake up!"

He smirks and walks over to the door. Natara materializes in front of him, with two large suitcases at her sides. She lifts them and strolls past him.

"You look awful," she comments.

"You seem excited," Mal answers.

"No city for a whole month." Natara turns and beams at him. "I'm ecstatic."

Mal walks into the kitchen and begins his morning ritual of making coffee and toast. Natara follows him after relieving herself of the suitcase burden, and continues talking.

"And I mean, Oscar's upset that we have to push the wedding back, but he understands that it's work. He seems pretty upset that I won't be around, though. Have you ever been on a cruise?"

"It isn't a cruise, Nat," he replies. "It's a boat taking us from here to Madagascar. It's just transportation."

"Well, yeah, but…"

Mal shakes his head, smiling, as she persistently argues that this is more of a vacation than work.

"It's going to take at least fifteen days to get there," Natara says. "So that's officially fifteen days of free vacation time on a _cruise ship_, no less, to just relax before we get there and actually have to work."

"It is a small ship though, Nat. It isn't, like, a giant luxury cruise ship. Just a few people heading to the same place," Mal answers, pouring two cups of coffee out and adding some cream and sugar.

"Small expectations can lead to big results," Natara says, grinning, and snatches one of the mugs from his hands. "You just wait."

And indeed, the results are far greater than Mal imagined.


	2. Chapter 2

_Just so you know, updates will be sparse because I go back to school tomorrow. I'm still going to try and write though. But I'm sure being a junior and all will be a lot of work, so we'll see how it goes. I hope you enjoy this chapter. :) Thank you for all of the reviews! You're all just super amazing and I don't deserve to have such great people reading my stories. You deserve to read way better than my stuff. XD I love you. :3_

_Oh, and I posted a picture on Tumblr of what their room looks like. In case I suck at descriptions (which I do). It's with the link to my fanfic. It's probably going to be the top thing on my blog for a while. XD_

_milesabovemyhead . tumblr . com_

* * *

"What do you mean there isn't any bacon?"

"Mal, calm down."

"No, this is a cruise ship and I want some goddamn bacon!"

"I'm sorry sir," the food cart attendant cuts in. "But we don't have any bacon in the kitchen."

"It'll be fine, thank you," Natara says, pushing past Mal to stand in the doorway. "This is lovely."

The attendant nods uncertainly and backs out of their room.

"You're quite the morning person," Natara says to Mal.

He grunts noncommittally and turns to the cart of breakfast food the kitchen attendant brought them.

"Someone could have at least warned me to bring a half-month's supply of frozen bacon or something."

"Jesus, Mal, calm down. Here, have some coffee." She hands him a yellow mug of steaming dark liquid from the edge of the cart. Mal lifts it to his lips.

"So what do you want to do today? I bet there is all sorts of-" Natara is cut off by the dark liquid leaving Mal's mouth.

"Syrup," he says grumpily. "I'm going back to bed."

Their room is number 4, bordered on the left by a single, occupied by a girl (who appeared to be nineteen or twenty), and on the right by a double, occupied by an older couple. There had been many whispers by their neighbors when Mal and Natara first entered their room. At first, people just asked if they were married or on their honeymoon or something. When they set those people straight, others asked if they were siblings. Eventually, word got around Number Four was occupied by a Special Agent from the FBI and her male work partner, a detective for the SFPD. The people were not pleased.

The room itself, Natara was displeased to learn, was the size of a large closet. Mal said that it was to be expected, but nonetheless it was awkward and claustrophobic. In fact, the cart of breakfast food that Natara is now picking at idly cannot even comfortably fit in the room. It sits outside in the hall. She turns around and looks inside to where Mal is now laying, head covered stolidly under a large white pillow.

On the left of the room at ankle height there is a small wooden shelf. On it rests two life vests. Directly above that, there is a twin shelf sporting a white cordless phone, which they have yet to touch. Those shelves are supported on the left by the wall that holds the door, and on the right by their beds. The top berth is a smaller one, but it has its own personal fan. It also has the small portal-like window and the benefit of not feeling like there is someone above you about to fall and crush you in your sleep. Mal gave Natara the top berth, and she has come to realize that every one of the pleasant points of it that the bottom berth lacks have been slowing killing Mal's spirit. Even though the bottom berth is wider, it is visibly less fun to sleep in. Every morning, Mal hits his head twice. First on the small reading light that is positioned above his pillows and second on the bed above him. This generally constitutes his bad mood for the rest of the morning, at which point Natara is always careful to step lightly around him.

On the side of the bottom berth there are two drawers where they keep some of their belongings. It was abundantly clear that Natara's large suitcase would be a burden from the moment they arrived, which is why it is, for the most part, stored on Mal's bed. At night, they put it up against the door.

Across from the shelves is the bathroom. There is a sink and a toilet and a small shower, and Natara became aware from day one of how horrible it is to share a bathroom with a man when it is half the size of a closet.

"Mal," Natara says gently, putting her hand on his upturned back. "Mal, are you awake?"

"How can I not be?" he answers moodily.

"You can nap on my bed if you want. I'm going to go meet some other people," Natara says.

He perks up considerably after that offer, and exactly twelve minutes later Natara is out of the closet-room and walking along the hall. A woman is coming out of Room Eight with a walker, struggling to keep the door open as she clunks the walker over the threshold. Natara walks over and puts her hand on the door.

"Hello," she says. "I'm Natara Williams. I'm staying just a few doors down."

"Thank you, dear. My name is Roberta Granger." The old woman pauses and stares curiously at Natara. "I think I've seen you before. On the news," she says matter-of-factly. "You're with those Maskmaker people."

"Yes," Natara answers uneasily. "Yes I was. It was a horrible case, wasn't it?"

Roberta nods thoughtfully. "Which room did you say you were staying in?"

"Number four." Her eyes widen considerably at this and Natara's face slackens. "They're all talking about my partner and I, aren't they?"

Roberta smiles kindly. "Don't worry. I'm sure there isn't any truth in it. Not many people believe the rumors around here, anyway." She successfully frees her walker from the restricting threshold. "Thank you so much, dear. You're very sweet. I'm sure the talk will die down soon." Her eyes gleam strangely and Natara frowns.

"Yes, I'm sure it will," she says, and their conversation ends.

She watches the woman slowly make her way to the end of the hallway, turn back to wave, then proceed left to where they had been told the main deck was. Fighting the urge to follow her and further inspect the odd feeling she has, Natara walks back to her room to see if Mal is finished with his I-Hate-The-World-Because-Sleeping-Sucks phase. He is.

"Morning," he says through his mouth of pancakes. One thing Natara learned after living so close to him is that Mal doesn't eat his food so much as go to war with it. He hits that food with everything he's got, and when he's done there is nothing left but demolished remains. At the moment, he was battling pancakes, the formerly-offending syrup, sausage, eggs, and something else that was blocked from Natara's view by the syrup mug. So far, the food was losing.

"Suddenly hungry, I see." Natara smiles. "Have you met any of the other people on here with us yet?"

He shook his head. He hadn't.

"I just met an old woman. She looked about eighty. I don't know why she's going to Madagascar, of all places, at her age. Her name was Roberta Granger."

Mal nodded and continued his ongoing battle.

"You don't think they all dislike us because we're with the police and everything, do you?" Natara asked suddenly.

"Nothing wrong with police," Mal says, but it comes out more like "No fink ron wif police" because his food is still battling for survival in his mouth. He struggles for a moment and then swallows hugely. "People always get nervous around the police," he continues, mouth now free. "Even when they aren't guilty. It's so weird. It's like an ingrained human nature to be afraid of trouble. Me, I like trouble. Nothing wrong with a little trouble now and then." He shoves three sausages in his mouth and finishes with, "Tubble keep dem fom bored."

Natara smiles slightly. "Yeah, but maybe there is something that they're…" She trails off into a thoughtful silence, punctuated abruptly by a loud crash from outside of the room.

"What…?" Mal mutters and Natara stands up and opens the door.

A pot lays on the ground at her feet, smashed, dirt being ground into the carpeting. A lone, wilted flower pokes out from the wreckage. Mal stands up and points to the outside of their open door, where there is a dent and some clinging soil.

The hallway is empty.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: **Hi. Sorry I haven't been updating. I just have had a lot going on. First, school. I have a new ongoing silent feud with my English teacher, whom I hate. Lots of homework too (on the second day! Freaking junior year.). Plot twist: I hate English and love chemistry. Go figure. Also, my sister just got married two days ago and my other sister is getting married in a month. To top that off, I'm probably going to be moving soon (for unnamed reasons, though my dad won't be coming with us. So that may give it away...) and it may be hard to update. Anywayyyyy, I hope you enjoy!

* * *

_"There will be a dinner on the main deck for all passengers able to attend. Food will be served at six. Please wear your best attire."_

"Uuuuggghhhhhh!" is Mal's response to the last bit, causing Natara to grin.

"Oh, come on," she teases. "You look so _handsome _when you dress up!"

He has no complaints after that.

Exactly fifteen people, including Natara and Mal, are guests on the ship and every one of them resolved themselves to the task of a group dinner that evening. Thirteen of them are already more than acquainted with each other. The other two are the strangers from San Fransisco in Room Four.

"I. Hate. Ties." Mal announces through gritted teeth.

"Are you dressed yet?" Natara calls from behind the bathroom door, where she had been changing.

"Yeah," he mumbles, playing with his tie. "You can come out now."

"I hope this isn't _too _fancy," Natara says, emerging with a light blush on her cheeks. "All of my other clothes are work clothes and...Mal?" She laughs. "Close your mouth, Detective Fallon, we have to go."

The ship's main deck is not, in all clarity, elegant, but the staff appear to have tried their best to make it seem so. There is a singular, long table in the center and all of the usual chairs and games have disappeared. In their place are fifteen uniform chairs surrounding the table, on which sits a feast. Mal's eyes get percievably wider at the sight of the vast quantity of it.

"All for us?" he asks hoarsely.

"Probably. And maybe the other thirteen guests," Natara replies.

The aforementioned thirteen others then enter as one, as if on cue. Natara looks at them skeptically, but Mal has eyes for nothing but the food before him. He grabs Natara's hand and drags her to their seats.

"Mal, do you think that they seem a little-?"

"Shh," Mal interrupts breathlessly, pointing to the table. "Food, Nat. Food time, okay?"

She frowns and mutters, "Yeah. Okay."

He takes an enormously ravonous bite of chicken. "Somefink wong?" he asks, looking at her curiously.

Natara peers around at their fellow guests and frowns. "Something just seems...off," she answers quietly.

Natara and Mal are not, it becomes apparent, the only ones being excluded. One man sits across the table, staring intently at his plate which contains minimal food. Mal glances over at him.

"Hey," Mal says. The man jumps briefly, startled at being acknowledged. His hair is grey and receeding, his clothes tattered and worn. He appears to be sinking into his seat - successfully - wishing to remain unnoticed. This is accomplished solely by his size. The small amount of food in front of him could have been a surplus for how thin and frail he looks. He seems to be intimidated by Mal and settles on looking at Natara instead. "That isn't a whole lot of food," Mal observes.

"Mal," Natara hisses and elbows him. "Rude."

"It's quite alright," the man answers weakly, smiling appreciatively at Natara and inclining his head. He speaks with a vaguely British accent. "My name is Edward Young."

Natara shakes his hand and Mal sits, watching uncomfortably.

"I'm Natara Williams," she says and nods to Mal on her left. "And this is my partner Mal Fallon."

"Partner?" Young says, dropping Natara's hand abruptly. "I wasn't aware you two were...involved."

After a brief coughing fit over her water, "We're _not_," Natara says forcefully.

"Oh," Young says.

"What she means to say is that we're work partners," Mal amends. "Nothing else. I'm a detective and Natara's a special agent for the FBI."

"_Oh_." Young pauses. "Well, I'd best be going. I hope to see you again sometime soon," he says, not removing his eyes from Natara's. "It's been a pleasure meeting you."

He stands and walks through the doorway to their rooms. Natara returns to her food, but Mal's eyes remain fixed on the place where Edward Young disappeared.

"What's the matter?" Natara asks.

"I don't like him."

"Why not?"

Mal shakes his head and slowly picks his fork back up.

* * *

"Natara! Hurry up!" Mal calls. "You aren't the only one that needs to pee!"

A knock interrupts his desperate pleading. Mal opens the door cautiously, not having a visitor previously.

"Er, hello," says Edward Young.

"And what do _you _want?" Mal asks. Young stares at him. "She's in the bathroom, so it looks like you'll have to settle for telling me."

He hesitates for a second before turning away uncertainly, but Mal grabs his arm.

"Sorry to disappoint. I know you came here for a gorgeous FBI agent and got stuck with me."

Young hesitates for another second before saying finally, "The...the FBI... They know how to protect people, don't they?"

"Uh, sorry, what?" Mal answers.

"I'm in danger," Young says with a sudden urgency in his voice.

"What?" Mal repeats stupidly.

"You can protect me, can't you? Make sure they don't...they can't..."

"Look," Mal says, backing up,"I'm sorry, but I don't think..."

"Don't let them kill me!" Young lurches forward suddenly and grabs handfuls of Mal's shirt. Their faces are inches apart now. "Don't let them...please...you can't...don't understand...I didn't..."

There is a familiar gleam in Young's eyes and his breath reeks of alcohol.

"I think you should go," Mal says.

"You...you aren't going to...?"

Mal takes hold of the door.

"...help...me...?" Young gasps and the door snaps shut and locks between them.

"Who was _that_?" Natara asks, emerging from the bathroom.

"Your admirer, Edward Young," Mal says with disgust.

"Mal...," Natara says quietly, putting her hands on his chest and smoothing his shirt. "What's wrong with him?"

"He wouldn't take his eyes off you at dinner."

Natara sighs and smiles slightly, her eyes sad. Mal turns to the daunting lower berth that he now needs to suffer again. She watches him quietly and grabs his arm as he begins his attempt to climb into it.

"What?" he asks, turning to her.

"Mal," she whispers, shaking her head, "sleep with me tonight?"


End file.
